


Young Blood

by Ziane



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Age Difference, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Blow Jobs, Consensual Underage Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Morning Sex, Mutual Pining, One Night Stands, Safe Sane and Consensual, Shameless Smut, Young Jesse McCree, he's 17, or so they believe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-05-20 18:57:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19382770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ziane/pseuds/Ziane
Summary: During a recruit mission, Gabriel Reyes discovers he has one thing in common with Jesse McCree: they both know how to get into trouble (and into each other's pants).





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CaptainNeedsNoSleep](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainNeedsNoSleep/gifts).



> Months ago, I promised my lovely art gremlin [CaptainNeedsNoSleep](https://twitter.com/SleeplessCap) a McReyes fic involving a desk... long overdue, darling! But here I am. I'm honestly so happy I waited to write this because I went the opposite direction of what I had in mind and I love it. I really hope you do too (っ˘з(˘⌣˘ ) 
> 
> Happy belated birthday, Cap! (ﾉ^ヮ^)ﾉ*:・ﾟ✧

The dryness of the whiskey burns down his throat in the first gulp, and Gabriel Reyes regrets his choice of drink at once. Even rat poison would taste better. The place looks as inhospitable as any wretched saloon you could find at the Route 66, but this one has a particular charm he’s very interested in. Lowering the brim of his black cowboy hat, he inspects the common thieves and criminals gathering around and he realizes he has hit the jackpot.

One quick glance at the pool table and all he sees are tattoos, vests, and patches of the Deadlock Gang. And a guy of no more than seventeen looking at him with a shit-eating grin and lifting his beer in a toast. He reciprocates with his half-empty glass of poison. Angering a ten or so group of hot-blooded teens who believe themselves the rulers of the world isn’t a good plan in this situation.

Gabriel misses doing recon missions. He could have sent anyone here, but being someone else, even for just a few hours, does the trick. Office work was never for him, luckily, Jackie takes care of that bullshit while he wings it. He didn’t even want to be Strike Commander. What would have he done with so many medals? Toss them in a drawer and forget about them? Gabriel snorts wryly and downs his glass in one bitter gulp. He always looked better in the pictures anyhow.

His fingers tap the brim of the glass and the waiter behind the counter pours him another serving, waiting patiently while Gabriel rummages for a few bucks in the back pocket of his jeans. He hopes he’s disguised enough to pass as a commoner or a bounty hunter. So far, no one has bothered him, not with his resting bitch face stitched on.

“Howdy.” Gabriel shoots an icy glare at the cowboy sitting beside him, beer in hand. He curses under his nose, squinting his eyes at him. But by the time he averts his gaze from that surely charming smile and inviting eyes, he recognizes the youth as Jesse McCree. An outlaw with a bounty on his head at seventeen and precisely the one whose report had haphazardly landed on his desk a few days ago.

An arrest is out of the question here, not with his background and the backup of his band. But perhaps he can try a different approach and pick up that plan that Jackie said was foolish and wouldn’t work; he always says no to Gabriel’s inside jobs even though they’ve proven successful most of the time. Except _that one time_. Gabe graces him with a smug smile. “Hey,” he says, his voice raspy.

“You come here often?”

A wry snort comes out his nostrils before he can stop it. “On my way to somewhere, hopefully with better poison.” He sips at his drink while the waiter rumbles a curse at the overheard _praise_.

“Don’t mind him.” Jesse cocks his head to the side. “If you’re only staying for a while I have a neat bottle of bourbon with your name on it.”

“You don’t even know my name, kid,” Gabriel says, arching an eyebrow at him.

“Name’s McCree.” The cowboy stretches a hand at him, and Gabriel takes it without taking his eyes off of him. “An’ you are?”

“Reyes.” He didn’t feel the need to lie, which comes as a surprise.

“Well, Reyes, this is a one-time offer,” he says, a smug smile stretching his lips. “Whatcha say?”

“You sure?”

“Damn sure.” McCree stands, winking at him. “Follow me.”

Gabriel obeys, climbing the stairs to the upper floor, eyes on the cowboy’s backside before him even though he shouldn’t. He clears his throat. This confirms his suspicions, the place looks like one of the Deadlock gang’s main operation center; probably a recreation one in which they spend too much time drinking and fooling around instead of working, but it’s a place to start digging into the organization. So far he has found gold.

McCree shoulders his way into a room, welcoming him inside with a sloppy curtsy. “Come into my office,” he says.

Gabriel gets inside, his eyes roaming the place. A sturdy wooden desk dominating the space, a dartboard on the wall along with a very interesting map of the area with several locations marked on it. If only he could take a picture, but he memorizes what he can before the noise of the latch of the door closing brings him to the present. “Your office?”

“Borrowed… does it matter?”

McCree swags his way toward the desk, rounding it and leaning down to reach for the bottom drawer. He lifts a half-full bottle of bourbon, and by the label on it, it’s good indeed. A smile creeps up his lips. Gabriel motions closer, his fingers tracing the outline of the weathered wood while he watches McCree taking a long gulp directly from the bottle. “Forgot the glasses.” He shrugs, offering it to him. He leans back, kicking the chair aside. It rolls until Gabriel stops it with a hand. Way better than the whiskey downstairs. The golden liquid trickles down his throat thick and sweet. He hums, satisfied, and sits on the chair before McCree. A nonchalant air conquers his countenance, and he takes off his hat and leaves it on the desk. “Good?”

“Not bad,” Gabriel answers, wetting his lips. His eyes flick to the cowboy’s groin on his line of sight, an unmistakable bulge huddling to a side. He may be old enough to get himself into this kind of trouble, but he isn’t that old as to misinterpret an obvious situation. Truth be told, McCree’s offer is one he wouldn’t refuse, incognito or not. He just hoped he’d had more time, but McCree undoes his buckle and the button of his jeans. “What about the drink we’re having?”

“Ain’t a lil late for that?” McCree’s smug grin clenches his stomach, and Gabriel stands, bracketing him against the desk, the bottle touching the table with a thud. Far from intimidated, McCree spreads his legs and makes room for him, taking his hat and fitting it right on top of his own at the side of the table. He steals the bottle from his hand and takes a long gulp, tossing it out the way. Apparently, they’re done with the drinking.

Both his hands wring his black, cotton shirt as he pulls him onward, their mouths clashing in probably the worst kiss he’s ever had, the taste of tobacco and alcohol mingling weirdly. And yet it gets him so hard he almost feels guilty for the deception. Because that’s what he’s doing, or what he’s telling himself. McCree backs off to breathe. “Do you really want the bourbon, old man?”

“That shit’s older than you.”

“So are you, and here we are.” McCree clicks his tongue.

A spark ignites in Gabriel’s belly, and their mouths join again. This time he leads the kiss, swiping his tongue seamlessly across his parted mouth. He sneaks inside and realizes McCree tastes better than he expected, so forbidden his cock jerks while trapped in his boxers. The cowboy palms him over his jeans, rubbing his cock hard way faster than he has gotten in years. He loses control of the kiss, his tongue fucking his mouth, his hips swaying to get more of his hand. Gabriel stops to take a sharp intake of air and curse under his breath. His little private talk has gone FUBAR, he should’ve seen it coming.

“You’re thick, you work out?” McCree fondles his biceps with the same interest he strokes his cock over his jeans, and it’s driving him mad. Gabriel lets out a throaty chuckle more for his track of thoughts than McCree’s remark about how brawny he is. If he knew what runs through his veins, he wouldn’t admire how muscled and strong he is, he’d be scared to death. But for a twenty-year-old twink, this must be heaven.

Staring into his whiskey-colored eyes, Gabriel notes how McCree pries open his fly and sneaks a hand inside his boxers. When he fists his cock, a shameful groan comes out of his lips, but McCree’s retort turns it into another chuckle. “Damn, you’re big.”

“Is that a problem?” Gabriel teases, praying to the heavens that he doesn’t cum right there and now. When was the last time he got laid? If he has to think about it, it’s been way too damn long. And he definitely never had a cheeky treat such a Jesse McCree.

“So that’s how it’s gonna be, huh?” He breathes out the words into his mouth, taking his hand out of his jeans and already regretting it. “Let me get this out of the way,” he mumbles, toeing his boots off while swooping down his pants and boxers with no a trace of shame -and in what looks like a well-rehearsed ritual- He opens the first drawer and takes out a bottle of lube and a condom. “For later.” He tosses it to Gabriel, that catches it up midair even if his gaze is fixed on McCree’s generous cock.

“Pretty handy, your office,” Gabriel mumbles, but before he recovers from the shock, McCree hops up the desk and hooks a leg on his elbow while he smears lube between his cheeks. His underwear and jeans hang from his other leg. For a fleeting moment, Gabriel ponders on the idea to sit back on that chair and enjoy the show while it lasts. His mouth goes dry and his throat tightens.

“C’mere and make out with me,” McCree says, rebellious strands of hair getting in his face, and that nonchalant smile curling the corners of his mouth upward. “I’ll be ready in no time.”

Gabriel grasps his wrist, making him stop. “First,” he whispers low and throaty as if the fire kindling in his belly coated his voice, “I like to smooth the way myself.” McCree cleans his slicked fingers on his thigh, bracing himself back more comfortably while Gabriel pumps a generous amount of lube for himself. “Second, don’t get too attached to my fingers, kid.”

“I ain’t that kind of guy.” A strangled moan dies in his throat when a thick finger slides right up his ass. He clenches around it like he wasn’t expecting it, and he averts his gaze from those deep, black eyes that stare back at him, a flush creeping his way up to his cheeks.

“We’ll see how good you sing, cowboy,” Gabriel jests, but his imagination is teeming with possibilities and which one to exploit tonight. Albeit this is not what he should be doing, but that’s a problem for his future self, and he isn’t putting this on his report. He drowns in the cowboy’s mouth, his finger fucking him deep and slow, making way for a second one as he drinks in another moan.

Their ragged breaths puff against each other’s mouth in between kisses. McCree bites his lower lip, suckles at it so needily he wished it were his cock. He twists his wrist, pushing his fingers deeper and curling them up on their way out. A sultry moan is his reward, so he does it again until whines, little moans, and muttered curses fill his mouth alone with desperate, wet kisses. McCree clings to his shirt and tugs at it, and Gabriel rolls it up to his head with one hand and leaves it behind his neck, his sleeves still on. His bare torso exposed in the open makes the cowboy gasp, but then a furrow appears between his thick eyebrows.

“Dog tags?” Gabriel tugs them under the shirt and behind his back. He forgot the damn dog tags again as if they were part of his body and not a branding mark of his country. “Are you in the army?”

“Wanna talk or wanna fuck?” His fingers pound into him faster, and McCree thrashes his head back with a moan, his legs sprawled wider. Gabriel hooks one on his elbow pit while McCree supports himself back on his forearm, his other hand stretched and mapping his chest greedily. He keeps fingering him hard and fast, gentle and almost too slow; anything to make him forget the damn dog tags, although judging by the way in which he moans and glances at him behind hooded lids, he knows no better. He recognizes the lack of common sense in him because is like watching his old self in a mirror.

The jeans hanging from one of his ankles fall unceremoniously with a clank because of the big BAMF buckle. Before, his shirt hovered over his cock, but now McCree rolls it up when he notices the tip is leaving a growing damp dot. “Damn,” he curses, closing his eyes and whipping his head back. He feels lightheaded, noting how those greedy fingers have him writhing and at the brink of orgasm. This big guy was right up his alley, and he wasn’t wrong inviting him up for a _talk_. Gabriel’s fingertips brush against his prostate, lingering enough to put pressure and send a surge of pleasure through him. “Stop, damn it,” he groans, wrinkling his eyes shut, his cock jerking and shooting a clear spurt on his grey shirt.

Gabriel complies, stifling for a moment and then withdrawing his fingers. But he allows himself one little pleasure as he brushes his lube-slicked fingertips over his hole. “Are we good?”

“That was close.” McCree clears his throat, the corner of his mouth pulling upward. His ragged breath is the telltale of how close it’s been. He’s all bothered, his cheeks blooming in pink, his cock swollen and oozing pre-cum. “Do you need help with that?” McCree unhooks his leg from his arm, tilting his head to the condom wrung in Gabriel’s hand. This is happening, and there’s no way in hell he’s stopping now despite his brain telling him he’ll regret it in the morning. He’s not so fond of that theory when the cowboy swoops down his jeans and wraps a hand around his girth as if measuring it. “Oh damn.” It sounds like a beg more than a complaint.

He fails to open the condom due to his slippery fingers, so he bites it open, the taste of lube lingering in his mouth. That rough hand gives long strokes on his cock that would make him come if he wasn’t dying to get inside him. McCree seems to know exactly where to tug, where to squeeze, how fast to go. A clear spurt oozes at the tip, and he smears it with his thumb while licking his lips. “You having fun, kid?”

“Not the kind of fun I want.” He hops off the desk, turning around and bending over. He braces himself on his forearms and glances at Gabriel over his shoulder, smiling smugly while he stares fixedly at his buttocks with the condom still in hand. “Come on, we ain’t got all night.” It sounds teasing and cheeky, and for some reason, Gabriel loves the way he drags the words, desperation of getting dicked tingeing them.

“You’re a big mouth, aren’t you?” Gabriel rolls the condom down his cock, wondering if he’ll last long enough. He’s hard and horny like he hasn’t been in a long time, and precisely when he shouldn’t, but there’s no more blood in his brain to advise him otherwise.

Gabriel gropes for his butt cheeks with greedy hands, spreading him open to see a slicked, welcoming hole that he could call home. “I wouldn’t stare for long or I’ll have a ride of my own,” McCree says, but his voice cracks.

“Cheeky bastard,” Gabriel mumbles, a hand digging holes into his butt, the other aligns his cock. He swivels his hips forward and slips the head inside. The tightness around his girth steals the air out of his lungs, and his stomach curls nice and warm when McCree sings a needy moan.

“Keep goin’,” he gasps. Gabriel slides in smoothly with a grunt, stepping in between the cowboy’s sprawled legs. “Oh God, just get inside me, all the way.” He’s yammering, and Gabriel doesn’t mind at all. He squeezes his butt cheeks while he watches his cock disappearing inside him. McCree swallows him and clenches around his cock when he’s balls-deep. That’s what he wanted all along.

Gabriel stays there, waiting for him to adjust to his size. They fumble around until they are comfortable, his hips molding the youth’s backside; way better without jeans, and heavenly warm on the inside. His hands map his sides and hips, warming up cold skin with his blood-stained hands; he’ll never clean them up fully, not when he’s taking so many lives already.

As if he wanted to savor the moment, Gabriel pulls out until only the tip of his cock is in and plunges back in a ruthless thrust. McCree’s shameful moan brings a smile to his lips. He does it again, and again, unhurriedly, knowing he’s drilling him senseless even though he’s already about to cum from the sight itself. McCree presses his forehead on the desk, a hand stretched back to touch Gabriel’s thigh. At first, he believes he’s being too rough, but he realizes McCree spurs on his movements although he barely grazes his skin.

Curses come out of McCree’s lips when he’s at the brink of orgasm from that thick girth alone stretching him widely and pounding relentlessly into him. And yet he’s in seventh heaven. He would love to have all the time in the world to come untouched around that surely delicious cock, but it’s almost eleven. He sneaks a hand between his legs and wraps his leaking cock in a tight fist. Oh, he won’t last! “More,” he mumbles. “That all ya’ got?”

Gabriel scoffs another remark about his cheekiness but fucks him faster. He curses when his jeans drop to his ankles but he doesn’t stop. His hands grasp his hips so hard he’ll get bruises tomorrow to remember their encounter. He will be getting off on this for the next three months. He slams into him, McCree’s arm executing a well-rehearsed movement while he listens to those enticing sounds coming out of his mouth. The guy never shuts up not even while fucking. “Oh God,” McCree says, his voice muffled against the desk, jerking off in a loose, slippery fist.

When McCree comes, Gabriel grunts, his impossibly hard cock trapped inside him for an instant. He keeps rocking into him, feeling how his hole flutters all the way up and down his cock. “You good?” he asks in a low whisper with his last breath.

“Uh-huh,” McCree sighs. He cleans his hand on his already ruined shirt. “Keep goin’, c’mon.”

“I should pull out, I don’t mind.”

“Keep goin’.”

Gabriel has no time to think twice when he’s slamming into him again, not minding when McCree trembles or his legs falter, ignoring those delectable moments he clenches around him because he has brushed his prostate and he’s sensitive as fuck. He asked for it. Gabriel leans forward, his forearms at both sides of McCree’s, his breath puffing hot and fitful against his nape. Not that he needs much to climax. He’s sweaty, their bodies damp where they touch, the noise of flesh against flesh resounding clear and loud in the office. It's so fucking hot in this office.

“Yeah, don’t stop,” McCree mumbles, slack over the flat surface with Gabriel’s weight all over him and his cock plowing him from behind. He takes all Gabriel gives while he jerks off trying to get hard again. He won’t get a fuck as good as this in his life, and he intends to make the most of it while it lasts. Luckily for him, his cock answers and swells in his hand while he’s full to the brim and begging for more. If they only had more time.

Gabriel cums so long and hard he almost regrets wearing a condom. How he would love to see him drenched in him and leaking even after he’s gone. The thought drives him mad while he rides out his orgasm, mouthing at McCree’s neck, his hips slapping him lazily while he refuses to get soft or pull out. “That was _so_ good.” The praise gets to McCree, especially when Gabriel whispers it so low and so just for him his stomach curls and he spills what he had left into his hand; with his half-hard cock still inside him. This is the moment Gabriel’s eyes land on the leather vest with the Deadlock gang’s motif on the back. “Oh fuck,” he curses. He just fucked his raw recruit, and he’d do it again if his cock wasn’t soft and weary from his release.

Their ragged breaths fill the silence, and with one last shy kiss on his neck that he doesn’t even think about giving, Gabriel grabs the base of his cock and the condom and pulls out. 

“Yeah, it was.” McCree fetches a few tissues from the drawer and cleans up his mess how he can. He wears his jeans again, trying to avert his gaze from the man who just fucked him senseless, even though what he would want is to fall asleep and relish in the delicious burn left in his ass.

“Bin?” Gabriel asks, and McCree grabs the tied-up condom from his hand and tosses it on the bin underneath the desk. Their gazes meet, and Gabriel stiffens a smile at the disheveled, flustered cowboy in front of him. McCree winks at him, nonchalant and all in which most people would consider an awkward moment. There’s a spark of amusement in Gabriel’s eyes as if he could see all the possibilities that he’s wasting in a place like this. “Is this where I leave or when we have our drink?” He slides shut the zipper of his jeans.

McCree chuckles from the back of his throat and gets closer, helping Gabriel put his shirt back on even though he’ll take it all the way off. “Fancy a drink, darlin’?” When Gabriel is about to wipe that endearment off his lips with a ruthless bite and possibly kissing longer than they should after a one-night stand, someone bangs at the door.

“McCreeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!”

“Oh shit.”

“What are you doing in there?! I swear to God if you’re fucking another guy in my desk I’ll shoot you!!!” Ashe’s voice reaches him clear and loud. He expected to be out of here sooner, but he also regrets nothing.

“He’s the one getting fucked!” McCree shouts, keeping the bottle of bourbon on the drawer along with the lube.

“Not in this century cowboy,” Ashe jests. “Everyone knows you’re getting dick in there! I know!!! Get out of there! Now!!!”

“I feel special,” Gabriel says, wearing his hat and following McCree with his gaze while he opens a window and beckons him with his head.

“Don’t mind her,” he mutters, craning his head out of the widow and the fire escape stairs. The coast is clear.

“Girlfriend?” If Gabriel can get his hands on Elizabeth Caledonia Ashe the whole organization would be compromised. He glances one last time at the map on the wall, reminding him why he wanted to come up here in the first place.

“Ex-girlfriend, my boss, a friend of mine… It’s complicated.”

“A real charmer,” Gabriel jokes, squinting his eyes at McCree while he straddles the windowsill, guessing that’s his only way out without trouble. The banging on the door stops for a moment before another threat sounds loud and clear.

“Fucking Jesse McCree!! I’m getting my shotgun, you’ve been warned!!!” They hear her stomping downstairs.

“Goddamnit,” McCree curses, but then notices the business card Reyes offers him. Phone number maybe? He shouldn’t take it, or perhaps he should take it, to not offend the guy, and just toss it later. Or keep it, he’ll definitely be up for round two. The easily recognizable Overwatch logo on the front, though, makes him widen his eyes in surprise, his stomach clenching. “Am I in trouble?” He meets Gabriel’s dark voids.

“One-time offer, cowboy,” he says. “I want you on my team, so be smart about it.”

“For real?” Gabriel nods, grinning at McCree’s ashen expression. But then a throaty chuckle comes out of his lungs, and he folds his arms over his chest. “Do you have a desk?”

Gabriel gets out the window, glancing at him one last time. “And an office, a brat like you would be there very often.” He wonders if Jackie would be pissed about this if he finds out in detail how the negotiations went, but he needs not to find out just yet, and he may have leverage over Jesse McCree. “We’re leaving tomorrow, call me before noon.” He turns around, the cold of the metal railing burning his hands when he hears McCree’s retort.

“What if I don’t?” McCree’s heart thumps in his chest. All his life he’s been waiting for that one chance to get away and do the right thing, and now that he has it, his legs waver. Can he leave this life behind and forge a future of his own?

“I’ll put you in jail,” Gabriel warns, knowing that’s precisely what the Strike Commander wants, but not what he has in mind. “We know what you’ve been doing, but you can do more than wasting your life away like this, kid.” Gabriel snorts. “And as I said, I have a desk there too.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They're back at the headquarters, and they've learned nothing.

Gabriel storms into his office, slamming the door behind him and an ice pack on his desk. As he slumps in his chair, he grants McCree an icy glare. He has slept less than four hours today, and this was the last thing he needed after the meeting with Jack. “You’re dripping.” He takes a box of tissues out of the drawer and leaves it on the desk.

McCree discards the tissue soaked in blood and picks a new one, trying to stop the nosebleed. “I’m fine,” he mutters, sinking into his chair while waiting for the reprimand.

“Ice,” Gabriel commands.

“It ain’t bleeding anymore, I’m fine,” McCree scoffs, his voice nasal as he stuffs the tissue into his nose.

“Put the ice on the swelling.” Gabriel arches a questioning eyebrow at him and reclines back, staring at his grey shirt dotted in red while tapping his cheek with a finger. Reluctantly, McCree grabs the ice and presses it against his cheekbone, letting out a groan of pain and relief.

“I hadn’t noticed that one,” McCree mumbles. His knuckles are red and swollen too, and he’s nursing a headache. But with all that, he still doesn’t regret the fight that stirred on the showers earlier. Although he isn’t looking forward to Gabe’s scolding, and the prospect of a reprimand from Jack Morrison sends a frisson through his spine.

As if allowing him a moment to breathe, Gabriel peruses over the dossier he brought with. McCree’s record. Adapting to the military life hasn’t been easy for a youth that lived like an outlaw and used to do whatever he pleased whenever he wanted with no one complaining. But those days are gone. “Nine months and you’re still getting into trouble?”

“They had it comin’,” McCree huffs. “Damn kids can’t keep their mouths shut when I ask ‘em to,” he grumbles. 

Gabriel frowns. Jack mentioned McCree had gotten into a fight, not that there had been more than two recruits involved. He tosses the opened file on the desk, leaning on the surface with both arms. From the corner of his eye, he glimpses a picture of McCree of the day they arrived in Switzerland. His stomach still clenches when he remembers the way Jack told him this would go sideways in less than a month; that Jesse McCree wasn’t cut for this life, and that they will both regret the trouble later on. He hasn’t yet, he doubts he will.

“You know how things work around here,” Gabriel says. “This is already on Jack’s desk and he won’t let it slide.” McCree lets out a throaty chuckle. “What happened?”

“Tell me you two didn’t get into fights while you were in SEP,” McCree retorts, a grin stretching his lips and reminding him his face hurts like hell. He wants to work with Gabe and hates that first, he needs to go through training with a bunch of hero wannabes.

“That’s not the point.” A pregnant silence grows uncomfortable between them. McCree casts a downcast glance at the desk while Gabriel pierces him with a glare. From his unruffled hair, to the swell on his cheek, and the reddened nose, Jesse McCree has smiles and honeyed words for everyone. He listens to the lectures and has come a long way, and yet some of his teammates have rubbed him up the wrong way.

“Those guys deserved it, okay?” McCree snaps. “I told ‘em to shut up, but they riled me up and we had a misunderstanding, that’s all.” Gabriel pinches the bridge of his nose. He can’t help him if he doesn’t know what happened, but at this point, he doubts it matters.

“Who?”

“I don’t know,” McCree graces him with an insouciant shrug, “it was dark, and I hit my head.”

“Look, kid, I don’t care who you fought or why,” Gabriel sighs, “but you either learn how to ignore the assholes who cross your way, or… one more fight and you’re out.” Gabriel repeats Jack’s words and they itch in his throat. _If you can’t control him, I’ll put him between bars_ , Jack said.

“Like I have a choice,” McCree scoffs wryly.

“You do.”

“I ain’t going to jail.”

“I’ll look the other way,” Gabriel says, his voice dropping a notch. He eyes the door of his office; it’s closed. McCree’s whiskey-colored eyes pin him in place in a mixture of betrayal and an unspoken plea. The tissue falls on his lap, water droplets trickling down his neck and soaking his shirt. “You wanna leave, I won’t chase you, but if we meet again, I’ll have to arrest you. You know how to hide if that’s the life you want.”

“Forget it.” McCree’s answer comes faster than he expected, and a strange warmth swells his heart. “I like it here, I just…” he sniffles “... I hadn’t seen you in a week, I don’t know. Those guys are big-time assholes, you know?”

Gabriel shakes his head. “I know, kid.”

“I don’t belong here, but I don’t wanna leave,” McCree murmurs. He’s having a hard time when the other recruits look down on him. They know where he comes from, what he was, what he has done, and they fear him as much as they despise him. 

Truth is, he loves it here. He likes Ana and how she has a handful of patience to teach him to shoot even though he claimed he didn’t need it, bragging about his marksmanship. He hates waking up at six and training until he can’t even stand, but when the day is over, he sees Gabe reclined on the patio in a cloud of smoke with a half-smile on his lips and all the pain is gone.

“Give it time,” Gabriel says. McCree leaves the melting ice pack on the desk, his eyebrows knitting in a furrow.

“Where have you been?” McCree asks and Gabriel stifles a smile. A week without Gabe dropping by casually while he’s in the shooting range or seeing a closed office with no one inside has rattled his nerves.

“I had to fly to Paris.” Gabriel takes out of the drawer an ashtray and a pack of smokes, busying himself with the task of lighting one up as he ponders his next words. 

“Bring me with next time,” McCree graces him with a nonchalant smile.

A white puff leaves his lungs, and he curses how he has to stop smoking in his office because everything stinks, but when Jack comes in and wrinkles his nose, the nuisance pays off. He slides the pack of cigarettes across the table and McCree picks two, slides one behind his ear and lights the other one. “I’m trying to give you space, you’re too young to…”

“Cut the bullshit,” McCree snarls, taking a long drag while staring into Gabriel’s pissed off eyes. “I ain’t got no patience for that discourse today.”

“Bigmouth.” 

They smoke in silence as if they were having a conversation they have already had countless times with the same unfulfilling outcome. According to Gabriel, McCree’s too young to be with him or with anyone for all that matters, and according to Jesse he doesn’t give a shit and wants him. Sometimes it ends up with a heated kiss that makes Gabriel’s arguments against them falter, sometimes it ends up with McCree in his bed and a morning full of regret when he’s gone before dawn -when the brat isn’t what you’d call an early bird- and others they walk away and sulk while missing each other for a few days before the cycle repeats.

It’s too much for both, they know, and yet they can’t help it.

“Go to the infirmary,” Gabriel says, putting out the smoke. “Get out of my sight and don’t get into trouble until I fix this with Jack.”

“Can I sleep here tonight?” McCree finishes his cigarette, smoke seeping out of his mouth. “I ain’t keen on going back to my bunk.” He’s not fond of Gabriel’s tattered couch, but loneliness is preferable than sidelong glances and murmurs.

“No,” Gabriel stands. “I want someone to look at that.” He points at his swollen face with his chin.

“I ain’t going to the infirmary.” Jesse stands too, the desk an insurmountable barrier between them.

“Jesse…” Gabriel sighs, wrinkling his eyes shut. He rounds the desk, wondering if this is really getting out of hand or if he’s too biased to treat him like any other recruit. Probably the latter, most likely both. It’s too late now, Jesse McCree has settled in his heart to stay and he’s way too tired to run away from something good.

“C’mon, Gabe,” McCree winks. “It’s my birthday.” There’s a shy smile behind his words that catches Gabriel off-guard. He looks at the clock and it’s five past midnight, and the date is right. “Can I blow my candle?” McCree cocks his head to the side, sniffling, and Gabriel pats him on the back.

“Your optimism astonishes me sometimes,” he quips, and McCree chuckles. “Come with me.”

Nine months. Two hundred and seventy-four days in which at least once a day he has thought about their first time together. Gabriel can’t say he regrets it, but he definitely made things difficult for both. Perhaps he was doomed the moment they kissed, or maybe sleeping with McCree again when they were heading back to the headquarters wasn’t a good idea either. And one last time in the car, when they were about to arrive. He just pulled over and got -what he believed- a last taste of those young, narky lips; and a bit more of everything else.

Gabriel can still sense the heat of the sun seeping through the windows of the car. McCree turned around in his lap, his jeans rolled to his ankles. He groped for his ass, staring at his cock disappearing into him. He didn’t even have to move; McCree rode his dick as if they had all the time in the world, their ragged breaths mingling in the interior of the car. Gabriel followed up his sides with both hands, getting in the sight, feeling a nigh unbearable pull in his groin. Jesse turned around with a sexy grin and eyes brimming with lust, and he came hard.

They lied to themselves. They promised this would end once they were here, that Gabriel would be the commander and Jesse the recruit and their tryst a one-time thing. Neither wanted to arrive nor their trip to end. Something runs hot in his blood when McCree’s around, the drag of his accent, the way a smile stretches on his lips and reaches the corners of his eyes too. How he’s so sleepy in the mornings, how he kisses him with all he’s got, body and soul, and asks the same in return, always with a hint of _you’re leaving me_ on the tip of his tongue. Gabriel never would, not when he’s so deep in hell and those young lips are the only thing keeping him sane -or mad-.

 _One-time thing, my ass_ , Gabriel curses inwardly, entering the code to his quarters. Not that they’re big or anything, but he has a bed and a small bathroom and that’s more than he needs. He never spent much time in here, anyway. He even slept at his office most nights, but since McCree is here, this has been like a haven for both. A place where he can hide from the world and be Gabe instead of Commander Reyes, and to McCree some place where he can be himself and more importantly, be with him.

McCree’s young but he isn’t stupid. He clutches at straws to be with Gabriel, knowing a guy like him will grow tired of a reckless brat sooner than later. But he’s safe around him, strangely reassured that any shit that comes his way he’ll brush it off like nothing. Gabriel is scarce in shows of love and he scowls at him whenever he calls him any of the endearments that pour so easily out of his mouth. But the way he kisses him, the way they fuck slow and tender even in the worst days when any of them is particularly in the mood -well, Gabe. McCree’s always in the mood- He craves the words that don’t leave his lips but the truths they speak against his skin. That’s what he hankers for and will exploit for as long as it lasts. And if it doesn’t last, he will spend his life chasing it.

McCree sits at the edge of the bed, toeing his boots off and grunting. He rests the cigarette on the bedside table. His head hurts, his nose hurts, and his heart aches because he has gotten into trouble when he promised he’d be good. When he’s about to blurt out an apology, Gabriel disappears into the bathroom and comes back a few moments later with a towel and a glass of water. He’s ready for bed and he hasn’t kicked him out yet, perhaps it’s his lucky day after all.

Suddenly McCree realizes he’s thirsty, and it has nothing to do with Gabriel coming back bare-chested and in loose sweatpants that leave little to the imagination. Not that he needs to imagine what he has seen not as often as he would like to. “Painkillers,” he says, leaving the glass on the nightstand and offering a pair of tablets to McCree. He swallows them and takes a long gulp at the water.

“Thank you.”

“You’re a mess,” he chides, sitting next to him, the mattress sinking around them. He cleans his face with the damp towel, mostly dried-up blood. Luckily for McCree, his cheek hasn’t split.

“Damn, it ain’t broken, just bruised.” Gabriel clicks his tongue, pinching the bridge of McCree’s nose with no warning. “Auch!”

“The swelling isn’t so bad.” Gabriel smiles, handing him the towel while he gets on the bed and reclines against the headboard in what he considers his side now. On a bed too small for two. “How’s the other guy?”

McCree chuckles and cleans his nose again. “Not as pretty as me.” He glances at him over his shoulder and winks, stealing a half-smile from Gabe. After removing his shirt and jeans, he slides in bed in with him. At least the fight was after the shower and he’s not a stinky mess because the last thing he wants is to take a shower now. He’s lightheaded, and when his head hits the pillow, a pitiful groan comes out of his lips. “They’re both in the infirmary for all I know.”

“What did they do?”

“Say the wrong thing in front of the wrong guy.” Weariness is getting to him, and when Gabriel stretches an arm to fetch his datapad, McCree snuggles against him, his head resting on his side, his arm slacking over his stomach. Gabriel stiffens, but with a deep sigh, he reclines back, his hand finding its way to McCree's head. He runs his fingers through it, grazing his scalp while McCree’s steady breath puffs against his skin.

“You don’t have a worry in the world, do you?” Gabriel mumbles, struggling to lurk through his emails single-handed. He ends up bending a leg and supporting the pad there.

“Not when I’m in your bed,” McCree mumbles, pressing a kiss on his ribs and rumbling at the gentle caresses on his head.

“Bad day?”

“Yeah,” he breathes out, “I kind of fucked up, but it skyrocketed at the end.”

“Get some sleep,” Gabriel says, the corner of his mouth curling upward.

“Uh-huh.” The noise of his calmed breathing brings peace to his rambling mind, his stomach curling nice and warm. Gabriel can lie to himself all he wants, but he never sleeps as soundly as when Jesse’s here.

“Hey,” Gabriel whispers, cursing under his breath because McCree writhes and grunts, half-awake, half-asleep. “Happy birthday, Jesse.” McCree tightens his embrace, holding him closer, his leg entangling with Gabriel’s as if pursuing his warmth above anything else. Gabriel smiles. He sends one last email to Jack before he catches up on pending reports he couldn’t find time to read during his visit to Paris. But before he finishes the first, he’s fast asleep.

 

McCree awakens to the soft chimes of Gabriel’s tablet. He hadn’t slept so soundly in a very long time; without the urge of sneaking out of Gabriel’s bed before he clings to his body and the commander finally realizes how soft down on him he is. His face feels numb but doesn’t hurt as much. He opens his eyes to a dimly lit room, and he rolls to face Gabe’s side and finds him reading. He’s probably lurking through morning emails. A lazy smile curls the corners of his mouth upward and he stretches lazily. “Morning, sleepyhead,” Gabriel murmurs, his voice low and raspy as if he had woken up moments ago.

“Mornin’,” Jesse yawns, rolling on his stomach and sinking his face in the pillow when he realizes what hour must be. “What time is it?”

“Almost noon,” Gabriel answers without taking his eyes off his pad.

“Shit, I gotta go, I’m already late,” McCree mumbles a curse under his nose and straightens, trying to leap out of bed, but Gabriel grasps his arm and pulls him back to his side.

“You got the day off.” A smirk stretches on his lips. “You said it was your birthday.”

“And you’re still here.” McCree presses a kiss on Gabriel’s arm, a dopey smile curling his lips.

“Forty-eight hours’ shore leave.”

“Look at us, free to laze around in bed…” McCree drags the words while he drags his lips along Gabriel’s shoulder. He cocks his head, and McCree hustles to find his mouth for a well-deserved morning kiss. Gabriel doesn’t mind his morning breath kisses, in fact, he wished he hadn’t run away from his bed so many times so they had woken up together more often. McCree tries to steal the datapad from his hand, but Gabriel gives a throaty chuckle and moves it out of his reach.

“Gotta finish this, though.” He presses a peck on McCree’s unsatisfied lips before his eyes flick back to his emails.

Jesse mumbles a protest, rolling back to his side while staring at the ceiling. His hand sneaks under the sheets, his morning wood straining his boxers. “Don’t mind me, then.” A smug grin creeps up his face while he scoots closer to Gabriel, naughty fingertips sneaking under the waistband of his sweatpants while he maps his stomach in kisses.

“Jesse…” Gabriel warns, noting the sheets draping down his legs and McCree swiping a wet tongue below his navel. There’s no use in fighting McCree’s stamina in bed when he’s horny; not that he even wants to.

Ignoring the warning, McCree palms Gabriel over his pants, feeling how he swells at the gentle rubbing of his hand. He traces the ridges of his muscles with the tip of his tongue, glancing up at him, his countenance unaffected. But Jesse McCree’s always up for a challenge. He swoops down the loose sweatpants to his thighs, smiles slyly when Gabriel lifts his backside to aid him, still feigning to be focused on the work he’s sure he isn’t getting done.

McCree lies over one of his legs, his cock jerking when it brushes against the warmth of his body. He takes Gabriel’s half-hard length into his hand, stroking him languidly while mouthing at his sac. The first soft gasp leaves Gabriel’s mouth, and McCree smiles, his hand squeezing the tip and all the way down to his hilt. “I really hope I’m not distracting you, darlin’,” McCree says, breathing out the words on his balls.

Gabriel lets the datapad fall on his chest and narrows his eyes at him. “You can keep going.” Jesse’s smile curls his stomach, and when he darts his tongue out and licks the underside of his cock, Gabriel mumbles a curse and hides behind the tablet. He bites back a moan when McCree grasps his cock firmly and slides the head into the molten heat of his mouth.

McCree hums while he suckles at the tip, twirling his tongue around it while his hand works him into a full erection in no time. He takes him out only to slide his cock back into his mouth in one smooth glide. Before he reaches his knuckles, the tip taps the back of his throat and he moans, always willing to choke on Gabriel’s cock.

That sweet, honeyed groan that comes out of Gabriel spurs him on, and he braces himself on his firm stomach while bobbing his head. A tad deeper every time, swallowing inch after inch. His lips tighten around his generous girth, his tongue brushing the side, his mouth wavering around him and feeling him harden inside him. He was never the faithful guy, he was as free as the wind, picking here and there whoever he wanted to spend the night with, never caring much for his partners after the lust coiling down in him was sated.

It had been easy until he met Gabe. That first time on top of that desk didn’t come close to sate him. Not that he didn’t cum twice in less than ten minutes and loved the burn in his ass and the way he pounded into him, but the afterglow got to him. McCree wanted to fuck him again and hold him right after, which hadn’t happened before. And here they are.

McCree stuffs his mouth with the impossibly hard cock in front of him, unmoving, keeping him there warm and twitching while he sucks and swallows the clear spurts shot right down his throat. And he’ll keep him there until Gabriel can’t take it or finishes what he feigns he’s doing. 

It seemed like quite the deal; he would work for Overwatch under Commander Reyes’ wing, and he wouldn’t go to jail. They fucked as many times as they could before arriving at the headquarters -although that wasn’t part of the deal- with a small miscalculation on his part: McCree never expected to fall in love so hard his legs turned boneless and his head to mush.

A hand cups McCree’s nape, fingers threading in his hair just how Gabe likes. He tosses the datapad on the nightstand and stares down at the show, his chin against his chest. “Jesse,” he gasps, his hand grasping a handful of his hair and tugging lightly, his hips bucking up inadvertently. Deep down, he knew once awake, he wouldn’t get any work done. He grasps his own cock by the root, brushing McCree’s swollen lips. The heat in his mouth is nigh unbearable, but they have so much time today they can play a little longer. He could keep him there longer until his eyes were teary and his throat sore, but Gabriel tugs again at his hair.

McCree slides his cock out languidly, sucking all the way out until only a clear trail joins the tip and his bottom lip. It breaks when he smiles, his cheeks flushed, his eyes brimming with luscious intent. He gives a long stroke of his tongue, starting on Gabriel’s fingers and finishing up on the oozing tip of his cock.

“I could go for a ride,” McCree quips, and Gabriel chuckles; he always does at McCree’s raunchy remarks although the offer is tempting.

“Yeah, you could.” Gabriel stretches a hand to open the drawer and take out a bottle of lube. He should re-stock even though he promised to himself this wouldn’t happen here or ever. They failed; and yet on their free time, they can do whatever the hell they want. He tosses the bottle on the bed and McCree picks it up, but then Gabriel rolls on his stomach, his cock strained in between his body and the mattress. McCree’s curse brings a lopsided grin to his lips, and he hugs the pillow against his chest, lifting his ass while glancing at him over his shoulder.

McCree stares at him; or rather at the pair of well-rounded, muscled butt cheeks that not a thousand squats would grace him with. He shimmies his boxers off fast as lightning and then tugs at Gabriel’s sweatpants. “Too lazy to top in the mornings?” McCree jests, nudging his legs open while he warms up the lube in between his fingers.

“You better finish what you started,” Gabriel defies him, but a muttered moan dies in his throat when McCree spreads one of his cheeks and strokes his rim with lube-slicked fingers. Fucking McCree senseless has been his number one guilty pleasure these past months, but getting that big cock in his ass sounds about right at this precise moment. And the cowboy is as good giving it as he is taking it.

McCree squeezes his butt cheek while biting his lower lip, pushing a finger inside him and using the excess lube to sneak another in way too fast. Gabriel grunts at the discomfort, so he keeps them there, moving sweetly in an enticing back and forth. It never goes as he expects with Gabe; they can be two rough, sweaty messes or a pair of teenagers playing hard to get until it’s too late and both melt into each other’s arms. Gabriel’s tight, but he fucks him faster, both his fingers shoved to the second knuckle and out again. He straddles his thigh, and his cock brushes against his flesh offering way little relief for what he really needs.

Sometimes McCree begs so hard for his dick he feels ashamed right after; he whines his name and moans for more until Gabriel puts two fingers into his mouth so he can suck while getting fucked, making no more noises. Others he wants nothing more than to shove his cock inside him and stay there for the rest of his miserable life. He wants him, anywhere, anyhow. McCree has never been so keen on anything in his life than getting in Gabriel Reyes’ bed. He’s doing a good job so far.

“Yeah, like that, honey,” McCree mumbles, noting how Gabriel relaxes and makes his task easier. “Let me get you all soft for my dick.”

Gabriel muffles a chuckle on the pillow. “You need to work on your dirty talk, kid.” His laugh doesn’t last long, because McCree leans forward and bites his side. His skin is always warm and smells like sweet dreams. He shoves his fingers so deep inside him Gabriel could come if he wanted. McCree knows where to rub his fingers, where to tap, where to exploit that surge of pleasure and send him over the edge. Instinctively, Gabriel rolls his hips back and gets more of that delectable friction.

“So…” McCree whispers, his nose following the sinuous curve of his spine until he inhales deeply at the back of his nape. “Condom or you want it messy?” He withdraws his fingers and slides them back in, soothing the way with a sweet kiss on his neck. Upon listening to Gabriel’s moan, he does it again, but this time he teases him, his fingers slipping in between his butt cheeks and feeling him soft and stretched. “Hm? Cat got your tongue?”

Gabriel turns his head to lock eyes with him. “Fill me up with all you’ve got, cowboy, and go for a ride while you can,” he whispers in that raspy voice that drives him mad either when he’s giving orders or asking _nicely_. Gabriel Reyes exudes unadulterated sex in almost everything he does. McCree feels the red come up his cheeks; any dirty word pouring out of Gabriel’s mouth trickles down his spine like honey.

McCree straddles him, his thighs bracketing Gabriel’s, his hands cradling his butt and his cock trapped in between. He coats himself in lube and cleans his hand on the sheets -usually Gabriel complains, but not this morning- then he spreads his cheeks and sways his hips back and forth, getting a delectable friction on his cock.

“I could cum like this,” McCree murmurs, his hands holding Gabriel’s hips down while he fucks in between his butt cheeks. The mere fantasy of spilling all over the small of his back makes his cock ooze a clear trail.

“Don’t tease, just fuck me,” Gabriel says, lifting his ass and aching to have him inside, but that’s something he won’t tell. The day McCree finds out he would beg for his cock with not a trace of shame in his voice he’d be done for. The brat is a tease, but he doesn’t have the patience for it and comes too fast only to fuck again. Even when Gabriel plays with him, he can’t take it and a blue streak of pleases leave his mouth when he doesn’t let him come when he wants.

Gabriel enjoys those little games, pushing a little further, trying to teach him a moment could last hours. They’ll get there eventually if this thing lasts; if they last. The first time McCree came untouched only from his cock and with his name on his lips, Gabriel thought it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. But he had to restrain his wrists and whisper praises into his ear, and he’d do it every night if he could. They can, if no one else is aware of their tryst.

“Jesse…” Gabriel warns again. Impatience churns his stomach. 

“Yes, sir,” McCree jests, aligning his cock with his stretched hole. His thumbs trace and spread the lush curve of his cheeks, and with a smart thrust, he plunges the tip of his cock inside him. Gabriel groans, his ass lifting, his legs trying to sprawl but he can’t; not with McCree’s weight on top of them.

The brat pulls out and does it again, as if working him open with his cock instead of his fingers. Gabriel likes it a tad too much and muffles a moan on the pillow. “Look at ya’ all shy there,” McCree teases.

Gabriel is indeed shy. The first time he rode McCree face to face he could feel the heat on his face, those deep, brown eyes praising him with his shameless ogling. “You brat,” Gabriel chuckles, his forehead sinking in the pillow.

His eagerness wins the battle, and in a seamless glide, McCree swivels his hips forward and sheathes all the way in. He keeps pushing, his knees crawling up an inch, his cock shoved deep inside him. McCree thrashes his head back and a loud groan leaves his lungs. His cock jerks, trapped tightly in that welcoming hole. His hands roam the length of his back from his hips to his broad shoulders. “God, you feel so good,” he mumbles.

Gabriel stands on his forearms, mumbling a curse under his nose at how full he is. His size’s not shy at all. He’s stretched widely and wants more, so he rolls his hips but the only thing he achieves is the gentle friction of the bedding against his cock. “Move, Jesse,” he groans.

A myriad of kisses trail down his back, and then McCree braces himself on his hips and rocks into him, shyly at first, his cock halfway out and back in balls deep. Gabriel has no idea how or why, but Jesse McCree knows how to fuck in gauged, mind-blowing thrusts that make him writhe for more. “I thought my morning would go sideways,” McCree jests, his breath caught up in his chest. “And here we are.” He leans forward, babbling nonsense.

Every word is a ruthless thrust, his hands spreading like fans on the mattress, his hips slamming in and out of him at the tempo of his heart. Heat pools deep down in his groin, but McCree tries to ignore it, wanting to feel first that sweet clenching around his cock before he releases. “Make hay while the sun shines, isn’t that what you always say?” McCree exhales a lazy chuckle and Gabriel’s lips curl upward, but a soft gasp leaves his lungs when his cock brushes his prostate.

“You like it there?” McCree aims for the same exploitable angle, getting the most delicious tremble from Gabriel. To fuck had always been so mechanic, disconnected from his partners, and now there’s no way he can take Gabriel out of his mind. He seeks his pleasure as much as his own, he wants to feel his reactions, make of him -them- a sore, sweaty mess and draw more sweet moans and whines as they pant for inexistent air. The best part of his climax is Gabe’s face twisted in pleasure and mumbling his name.

As he pounds into him with wild abandon, McCree leans forward and whispers into Gabriel’s ear: “You’re my kind of death row meal, but this ain’t goodbye, right?” He’s breathless, his hands wringing the mussed sheets.

“Jesse.” His name comes out of his lips soft and caring. “I can’t let you go.” Gabriel turns his head about, pursuing his mouth. “Not even for your own good.”

It gets to him, how their lips bump into each other, how his cock plunges deep inside him where it belongs. “Don’t give up on me,” he whispers, kissing his lips and then hiding in the crook of his neck. “Don’t let me go.” The unmistakable noise of flesh against flesh fills the room, Gabriel grunting, McCree puffing his hot breath at his nape. He lets his insecurities aside, his knees spreading widely while he slams into him until he cannot take it anymore and bursts with want and desire to come. “I can’t, Gabe, I’m comin’,” he mumbles, unable to stop the rushed plowing of his hips or the pleasure tightening his groin.

Gabriel notes how he hardens inside him, his cock barely leaving him empty, just pushing and putting pressure right where he needs. The motion transfer to his body, and desperate to follow up McCree’s plea, he fucks the bed, grinds against the soft sheets as if he were fucking him and cums with his name on his lips and his face hidden in the pillow. He rides it out as much as he can, his stomach sticky, his cock drenched in his own mess, and that relentless cock still splitting him open even when he’s clenching hard around him.

“Oh damn,” McCree curses, speeding up his movement while Gabriel’s hole flutters around him. He shoves himself deep, filling him to the brim, and getting off on Gabriel’s soft whines of discomfort. McCree spills thoroughly inside him, his cock twitching and pumping everything he’s got. 

A veil of perspiration covers his forehead, and weary, he lies on Gabriel’s back, their sweats mingling, their bodies still joined while his half-hard cock struggles to stay there a bit longer. If he was asked to describe perfection, this would be it, safe and warm in Gabe’s bed, their bodies sharing the aftereffects of a good fuck, their hearts pounding at the same unbridled rhythm. A lazy smile curls McCree’s lips. He presses them on Gabriel’s shoulder. “Good?” he whispers, his cock slipping out.

“So good.” Gabriels turns around in his arms, grasping a handful of his hair and taking his mouth with all he’s got. He was dying to kiss him, to make him understand he’ll always be here for him no matter what.

“Gabe…” McCree mumbles against his mouth, and a tender moan rumbles at the back of his throat when their mouths melt together again.

“I’m here.” A promise that wipes the doubts away and makes him chuckle. Gabriel cups his face with both hands. “How’s your face?”

“You tell me, ain’t I pretty?” McCree jokes and Gabriel snorts. “I’m okay, I’m tough.”

“What are your plans for today?” Gabriel asks. McCree lies at his side, his head resting on his hand and a lopsided smile on his lips.

“Take a nap and then go again?” Turning to look at him, Gabriel stares at his whiskey-colored eyes, the subtle swelling in his cheekbone, and his still sleepy face.

“What if we grab breakfast and get away from here?” With his cum still oozing out of him and his breath returning to normal, he can only think about spending more time with him.

“Now that you mention it, I’m starving.” McCree’s smile beams brighter than the sun, but it’ll take a while to get them out of bed and into the shower. “Hey,” McCree says, a playful smirk stretching on his lips. “We’re not so illegal anymore, huh?”

Gabriel rolls his eyes, slacking onto his pillow, his body still drowning in the afterglow of their lovemaking. “Fraternization? Does that ring a bell?” For a second, Gabriel doesn’t know if he should laugh or cry, but McCree’s loud curse gets to him and he turns about to meet his eyes.

“Well, I’ll be damned.”

Naked and with nothing to hide, Gabriel decides he’s way too old to give a fuck about this anymore. “I don’t care,” he says, the corner of his mouth pulling upward. McCree squints his eyes at him, scooting closer. He entangles their legs, and his hand tickles down his stomach, pursuing his touch. “This is good.” McCree grins. “They can go to hell if they don’t like it.”

“We’re good,” McCree agrees, wetting his lips. He has never been wanted like this, and he may not belong to this place yet, but he belongs to him; they belong together. That’s what his gut tells him.

“If you want this… us.” Gabriel swallows up. “I’m in.”

McCree leaps on top of him, straddling him. “I knew you were a sappy bastard.” He has no time to tease any longer, not when Gabriel tackles him on his back and bites him on the neck and his shoulder. It stings, and he loves it so much it makes him laugh. “Hey! What was that for?”

“Why did you fight those guys?” Gabriel stares into his eyes, swearing they look warmer than ever. “I have forty-eight hours to convince Jack you’re not a threat and that you know how to follow my command.”

“Gabe you know I ain’t got no problem following your commands…” The lopsided grin earns him another bite on his lower lip that fuses into a languid kiss.

“Answer me.”

“They were badmouthing you, and I eavesdropped on their conversation,” McCree confesses and graces him with a slight shrug. “It won’t happen again.” At a loss for words, Gabriel breaks into a laugh like he hasn’t in years, hiding in the crook of his neck to muffle the loud guffaws. “What’s so funny about it?” McCree bickers. “I defended your honor with my face!”

“Such a pretty face,” Gabriel mumbles breathless, snatching his chin. “Why don’t you sleep a bit longer while I take a shower? Then we set off for the day.”

McCree snorts. “I’d rather fuck you in the shower.” He arches an eyebrow at him, a smug smile curling his lips. But all his cheekiness vanishes when Gabriel sneaks a hand between them and fists his softened cock.

He clicks his tongue in disappointment. “You’re not even hard.”

“Gimme five,” McCree whispers into his mouth, breathing out the words as a lover’s promise.

Their brunch turned into an early dinner, and they regret nothing at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! (⁄ ⁄^⁄ᗨ⁄^⁄ ⁄)  
> Now, this is -for real- the end of this fic and these two fools in love. I had so much fun exploring another side of McReyes and I hope you had fun reading my take on them.
> 
> See y'all on the next one! ~ヾ(＾∇＾)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! (⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)⁄
> 
> Corrections, suggestions, and comments are more than welcome! ╭( ･ㅂ･)و ̑̑ ˂ᵒ͜͡ᵏᵎ⁾✩


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